


The Languages of Love

by Enllyn



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! Act 3 Spoilers, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28614456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enllyn/pseuds/Enllyn
Summary: Hisoka’s journey to give back to the one who gives him happiness.
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Mikage Hisoka
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	The Languages of Love

Touch was such a fascinating thing. Some shied away from it, bristling at the sensation of contact with another being. Touch could elicit the disturbing feeling of having one’s personal space invaded, although it was less so with people one was close to. And yet, some sought it out, wishing to always have a physically-connected presence by their side. It reassured them that they were not alone, that they had someone to always lean on for support.

To Hisoka, it came naturally. It was not as though he could hover-sleep on people; how would he know how comfortable they were as pillows if he could not lay upon them? As he had deemed some time back, Izumi was by far the best lap pillow in Mankai. Tasuku may as well have been a rock, and the same could probably be said about the other muscle-heads in the company. Tsumugi and Azuma were decent based on softness level. Guy was decent since he could stay very still. Homare was... well, Hisoka’s initial assessment of him had been poor - noisy and moved too much, a lousy pillow.

He still talked about everything and nothing as Hisoka lay upon his lap, but the years had trained Hisoka to either a) tune Homare out completely, or b) allow the rhythm of his roommate’s voice to lull him to sleep. He could name a few positive factors that had not been present originally, like the faint smell of their room reminding him of a home, the warmth the other man emanated, or his favourite, the way Homare would card his fingers through his hair after he thought Hisoka had fallen asleep. Most of the time, he actually was asleep, so he had only really confirmed that particular gesture through one of Kazunari’s Instablam posts. “Naptime with room 205!” it read. The first comment had been from Azami, begging them to tone down such indecent acts in public spaces such as the lounge in their dorm.

Sometimes Hisoka wished he could return the favour (it was always a plus to pull on those stupid bangs too), but it was so rare for him to be the one awake among the two of them.

—

The opportunity presented itself one night. Having woken up, Hisoka decided that it was a good time to climb over the headrests into the next bed. Homare did not stir, for he had been thoroughly exhausted from a day full of editorial meetings. It was a lot easier to appreciate his form when he was not excitedly gesturing every other line, acting as the source of a bespectacled man’s impending headache. _Arisu’s almost pretty like this_. No, wait. That was wrong. _Arisu IS pretty like this._

Despite its somewhat spiky appearance, Homare’s purple locks were soft to the touch. They definitely had not been this texture when he first entered the company, though. Perhaps Azuma had given him advice on hair care at some point. Split ends, dry scalp, hair loss - it seemed like there were a lot of things that could potentially go wrong with one’s hair. Hisoka had never cared too much about his own. It mattered not, as long as it covered his right eye, and he was not balding.

A couple of years ago, Hisoka would never have considered lying next to his noisy roommate. At that point Azuma had been alone, and Hisoka would often take the spare bed, seeking peace and quiet for the night. But times had changed, and the next morning Homare woke up to arms wrapped tightly around his waist, a gentle warmth pressed against his side, and Penpen on his bed.

\-------

Hisoka wondered what it was like to come from a rich family. From his old life he knew that not all rich people were nearly as... quirky as Homare was (which he was thankful for, one was enough), but there were still some traits that had a high chance of existing within the person. Being ‘proper’ was one of them. It came with a sort of elegance at the dining table, knowing which utensils to use first and the right way to cut meat without it flying off the plate.

Another trait was not understanding the value of money.

“Arisugawa, your gift cannot cost more than ten thousand yen,” was what Sakyo had instructed regarding his birthday present. He had found an appropriate gift in the end - a ticket for a musical Sakyo had been eyeing - but the condition had initially stunned him. Hisoka had found it amusing. Ten thousand yen was a lot in the eyes of the students and some of the part-timers, after all.

Good things were not always pricey, as Yuki had taught them. Cheap fabrics could be styled well into an elegant costume, whereas expensive fabrics could look tacky if not handled correctly. The craftsmanship was just as, or even more important than the cost.

Likewise, the thought behind determining whether a recipient would actually like their gift was usually more important than the price tag on it. What use was a shirt that they would never wear, or chocolate that was too sweet for them? Giving vouchers for a shop that the person liked was always an option, since it would allow them to choose as they wished, but it could also feel like a bit of a cop-out. Might as well have straight up given them cash instead.

Perhaps if Hisoka had hailed from a rich family as well, he would have returned Homare the hundreds of thousands of yen he surely owed the other man. Then again, he would probably not have been found sleeping on Veludo Way in the first place, which would mean that he would never have met Homare at all.

A while after receiving his first paycheck, Hisoka had brought up the matter of repayment to Homare. “Arisu, do you… do you want me to pay you back? I have a bit of money now, so…”

“Fret not, my dear Hisoka-kun. I’ve always said it’s my duty to take care of you, haven’t I? That includes your marshmallow living expenses.” Homare had said this with a smile, but it still felt odd to give almost nothing in return to the one who had given him so much.

“Is there anything you want…?”

Homare stroked the feather on his quill against his chin for a moment. “Surprise me.”

\--

It took Hisoka a week to put everything together.

Hisoka realised that there were few things of traditional monetary value that he could offer. He had to either try and procure some more unusual items, or get something that could not be bought from stores - something handmade. The latter was tricky; Hisoka had minimal experience in the kitchen, and was no artist. But he was willing to learn.

It was fortunate that the people within Mankai had such a wide variety of hobbies and skills. Having lots of people to rely on in that way was a big change from Hisoka’s younger days, but a welcome one.

“A pressed flower bookmark? Never took you as one for reading, Hisoka-kun.”

“…It’s for Arisu.”

“Oh! That’s sweet of you.” Being the resident gardener, Tsumugi had made quite a few bookmarks for various troupe members, but surprisingly he had yet to help someone make one as a gift for another.

“Sometimes he loses the page he’s at in the book he’s reading.” _I want to thank him._

Tsumugi suppressed the urge to comment on how unusual it was to have Hisoka being the giver. It was cute seeing him put in effort for his roommate. “What flowers do you want?”

“…A rose and an anemone.”

Of course. Tsumugi should have expected their representative flowers. He was lucky that they had both types growing in their garden. But hold on, he had almost forgotten the age-old question. “What colour shall the flowers be? Different colours have different meanings.”

“Arisu likes red, doesn’t he…”

It was not wrong, but red anemones did not have a positive connotation.

“Ah, but,” Hisoka’s eye widened in worry. “The anemone can be purple.”

So he _had_ done his research, which meant he knew what the red roses symbolised too. It could be taken as a declaration of love, but could be passed off as just a present if it was not well-received, though Tsumugi doubted that would be an issue in this case.

He did, however, ask Hisoka why he was so insistent on cutting and pressing the flowers himself with Tsumugi’s guidance when Tsumugi could have easily helped him do it.

“…Because I want to.” Hisoka said it like it was simple. And that was that.

The next step was slightly less simple. Unlike Tsumugi, Chikage took it upon himself to tease Hisoka relentlessly.

“I recall seeing a nice tea set at the market, they told me it was an antique from several generations ago.”

“And the price?”

“Half a million yen.”

Hisoka gave Chikage a long stare.

“Ah, but I suppose you can’t affor-” Chikage’s words cut off as he swiftly dodged a swipe from the grey-haired man. “Your movements are sloppy, Hisoka.”

“Yeah, and you have stiff joints.”

“You’ve become too comfortable, too-“

“Will you guys PLEASE take your family spat out of my room?” Itaru yelled from his seat on the sofa. “You’re breaking my concentration AND my combo!”

“This is my room too, Chigasaki.”

“Well it was my room first! Now OUT!”

In a rare display of obedience, they left.

\--

A short while later, Hisoka found himself with a large box of earl grey and another box of assorted blends. He had grudgingly accepted Chikage’s suggestion of purchasing tea itself rather than a tea set, since Homare definitely already had one, or even several. There were few specialty tea shops in the area, so Hisoka had ended up getting them from a café that prided themselves on their tea instead. It had been a recommendation from Tsumugi as he was a frequent patron.

“Banri-kun really likes the egg sandwiches there, and the potted plants really add to the atmosphere. We usually end up drinking coffee, but the tea was delicious the few times we tried it. I find that they pair especially well with scones. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it too.”

Scones… Hisoka supposed it was Omi’s turn to be asked for help. The man was asked about baked goods pretty frequently, actually. Between two birthdays a month and all the other events that occurred throughout the year, as well as being one of the people on cooking duty, Hisoka swore the man was always in the kitchen. He could buy scones from a café too, but handmade things were always better, right? That was why handmade chocolates were always so revered on Valentine’s Day, because it was a lot trickier than buying them from a store.

Of course, there was also the matter of quality, but he doubted anything that Omi had helped with would be _bad_. There was just one more person Hisoka had to visit.

Room 206 always smelled pleasant and welcoming. “Ah, Hisoka. How can we help you?” Azuma put his book down to turn his full attention to their visitor.

“I need to learn how to pour tea nicely…”

At that, Guy spoke. “You may have my assistance, Mikage. We may begin immediately if you wish.”

Azuma giggled in that gentle way of his. “I’m sure Homare will appreciate your efforts.”

He had better! Hisoka had cut down on his sleeping hours the entire week just to prepare everything.

\--

Homare was surprised at the amount of thought that had gone into his gift. He had been out for a poetry recitation until late afternoon, which had given Hisoka plenty of time to set up their room for the occasion. “I’m back,” he called out as he opened the door.

“Welcome back.” Hisoka sat upon one armchair, the table laid out with scones and his tea set. A tea party for two.

“Hisoka-kun, this is-”

“For you, yes. Surprise, Arisu. Let’s drink tea together.” Hisoka was as measured as ever. It was unfair that he was so calm when the simple idea of Hisoka exerting himself for him filled Homare with enough inspiration to write a dozen poems.

“A gift that speaks to the heart, shall be thought of when we are apart. To think a man sleeping on the streets would be the start-”

“And this,” Hisoka cut him off, whipping out a pressed flower bookmark and holding it out to Homare, “is also for you.”

Homare was so moved that did the only logical thing he could in that situation.

He cried.

In the blink of an eye, Hisoka was by his side holding a handkerchief. “Do you… not like it?”

 _No,_ _I li_ _ke it. I like it a lot. I feel a spring of love welling up, overflowing in the form of tears. Hmm, that’s quite poetic, a spring of tears…_

“Arisu? It’s unusual for you to be so quiet.”

Despite being a talkative person, Homare found no flowery words on the tip of his tongue. Instead he hugged the smaller man tightly, one arm around his back and the other clutching the fluffy grey hair. “Thank you Hisoka-kun, I adore it.” _I adore you._

\-------

As winter came to an end, the season of sales-driven romance began. Patisseries offered sweets decorated for the occasion, covered in carefully crafted sugared hearts. Chocolate sales increased dramatically as people bought them for their friends and loved ones. Most notably, some cafés had couples-only discounts and offers. What a terrible time to be single.

“Bleh… it says the limited-edition marshmallow sundaes are only available on the couples menu… what a shame. Maybe I’ll ask Omi to make one when we get home.” Hisoka pressed his face against the glass window in order to read the menu. He was a simple man who saw marshmallows and wanted them.

“Omi-kun is absolutely swamped during this season,” Homare chided. “We can get the one from the café just fine.”

“What genius idea do you have?”

A warm hand clasped Hisoka’s, surprising him with how well their fingers slotted together. It had been a long time since anyone had held him with a gentle warmth, not since August had died; most touches were business-like, purposeful, and impersonal. They did not make him feel safe and comfortable, even though logically he knew that if they were attacked, he would probably be the one doing the protecting.

“It’s not as though the staff can check. You want your marshmallow sundae, don’t you, Hisoka-kun?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Arisu.” Hisoka fought to keep a smile off his face. If they had been back at the dorms, Chikage would have mocked him anyway, because Chikage could read the tiniest changes in his expressions. Itaru sometimes called him a ‘cheat character’, and Hisoka had to agree. On the other hand, Homare did not have that ability, and Hisoka had an image to maintain.

Still, it was interesting to be thought of as a pair by the café staff, who offered them a quiet rounded booth in the corner, far from the hustle of the kitchen area. The plush seats were perfect for dozing off in; perhaps if he sunk in far enough he could become one with the sofa. Which would he meld with first, the cushion or Homare’s shoulder? The thought amused him as Homare’s menu-perusing mutters lulled him to sleep.

Sadly, Hisoka’s impromptu nap did not last very long as he was shifted awake by Homare calling a waitress over. She had dark hair peppered with light streaks, even though she could not have been a day older than Omi. Was it from stress? If it was, he should probably warn Tsuzuru about premature greying since his time might be coming soon.

“One cup of peppermint tea, one slice of carrot cake, and one limited-edition marshmallow sundae. Would you like two spoons for the sundae? It’s quite large,” the waitress noted after taking down their order.

“Just one will be enough. I’m sure my dear sleepyhead here will be able to finish it by himself.”

The waitress nodded in acknowledgement and took her leave.

“Arisu.”

“Yes?”

“I thought some carrot cakes didn’t have carrots.”

“You’re thinking of a different type of carrot cake. Those aren’t even desserts, Hisoka-kun.”

Despite the number of customers in the café, the food was served in less than ten minutes. Hisoka eyed his sundae from the moment it left the kitchen, a sizeable bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate sauce and marshmallows in all colours. It was exceedingly beautiful and he knew he would love it. The sweet, sticky confectionary never failed him.

Halfway through his dessert, Hisoka realised the waitress had made a fair point - the sundae _was_ rather large for one person to finish. It was not that he was unable to eat all of it, but it would definitely have diminishing returns past a point.

“Arisu, do you want some?”

Homare’s eyes widened, making his pupils look smaller than they already were. “It’s yours, I already had my cake.”

“You can have your cake and eat this too,” Hisoka said. He held his spoon in front of the other man’s face.

“You can’t possibly mean to feed me!”

“Shut up and eat it before it drips off, Arisu.”

Homare had to admit that the sundae was delectable, albeit not something that he would have ordered himself. He was not the resident sweet tooth of room 205, but there was no harm in enjoying food he was given. Hisoka feeding him was an unfamiliar feeling, but it was in no way unpleasant. He could understand why Hisoka was content to be fed marshmallows, or even enjoyed it, when he was fully capable of doing it himself.

The dusty-haired waitress watched the pair use a solitary utensil to share the sundae. It seemed like they had completely forgotten about the option of getting a second spoon.

\-------

Hisoka was unsure of whether the comforting scent of room 206 contributed to how easy it was to open up to Azuma, because Guy gave off a similar vibe as well. Perhaps it was because they were both older, and had a plethora of life experiences to draw from in order to advise their younger troupe members. They had met enough people and heard enough stories that it was difficult to catch them off guard, and were fairly non-judgemental by nature. They were the perfect listeners.

On the other hand, Azuma was sometimes eerily perceptive.

“Are you troubled, Hisoka?” Azuma asked. He had a facial mask on, a new product that Azami had asked him about. There was no way to review it without trying it himself.

“Maybe.” Wow, the floor was suddenly captivating.

“The look on your face says yes. Come, take a seat.” Azuma gestured to the couch across from him. “Would you like some of these sweets? Juza bought them on his way home from school and thought I might like some. What a kind young man.”

Hisoka sat and looked around for a moment. “Where’s Guy?”

“Preparing his bar. There still isn’t a name for it, though.”

“He should have marshmallows as snacks.”

Azuma chuckled. “You can tell him when he comes back. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

“Sometimes when I’m at the bar, I hear someone telling the person next to them that they love them. And I realised I’ve never done that. Ever.”

“Well, you don’t really express your love through words.”

“I know, but,” Hisoka paused to breathe in. “But Arisu does. And I heard that how people express their affection is usually how they want to receive it too.”

“How cute. He knows how you feel about him, but I’m sure he would love to hear it out loud. You don’t have to change yourself, Hisoka. Though I suppose you could try saying those feelings once in a while. Who knows,” Azuma raised his eyebrows. “Maybe something special will happen.”

\--

“How was that poem, Hisoka-kun?” Homare sat at his desk while Hisoka lounged on their oversized white armchairs. They were big enough for both of them to sit on comfortably side by side, or for Hisoka to curl up on, as he was doing at that moment.

“It was stu-” Hisoka caught himself mid-sentence, remembering Azuma’s words from earlier. “I like it. Though I feel like it might lose its effect if it wasn’t being read out loud by you.”

Homare whipped around and stared.

“What?”

“Are you really Hisoka-kun?”

“Am I not allowed to give you compliments? Stupid Arisu.”

“Ahh… my dear Hisoka-kun is finally starting to appreciate my brilliance! Are you going to become one of my fans?” Homare said with a flourish.

“This is why I don’t give you compliments. For the record, I’m only going to say this once, but I don’t think you’re a terrible poet. Rather abstract at times, but I suppose some people like that.” _As long as you love the work you make._

Homare began to stare once again. The flush might have been a trick of the evening light, but the elated grin definitely was not.

Man, being truthful was tricky and embarrassing. “A-Anyway, I think you owe me a marshmallow. Or three.”

With that, the moment was over. Homare’s next dozen poems were related to melting away ice to reveal a warm flame, or cracking open shelled chocolates to expose the soft centre. Hisoka found himself unusually fond of them.

\--

Even on winter nights that warranted the use of Hisoka’s thickest blanket, Homare was somehow still warm. Did energetic people all have some sort of molten core that allowed them to radiate heat no matter the circumstance? Or did the energy simply overflow into a barrier that protected them from the chill? Hisoka made a mental note to ask their resident makeup artist later, assuming it was not an embarrassing topic for him. Nevertheless, Hisoka was grateful that he could sleep peacefully without battling the cold. But being relaxed also posed a danger.

“I don’t mind spending the rest of my life by your side.”

The danger of words slipping out unconsciously. It had merely been an idle thought from a half-asleep mind, going straight from brain to mouth without passing through the filter that usually stopped Hisoka from being sappy. Chikage would make fun of him for _weeks_ if he found out Hisoka had uttered something so sentimental. Luckily for Hisoka, it was a comment that would stay within the walls of room 205. Heck, was Homare even awake yet? He could go back to sleep and pretend nothing had happened.

“You mean it?” Well, that answered one question.

“Mm…”

Hisoka opened an eye blearily as he felt movement beside him. In the faint light of dawn, a small box was pulled out from beneath the pillow and opened to reveal a silver band. For all his exuberance, Homare had chosen a fairly nondescript piece of jewellery.

“Hisoka-kun, will you-”

“Of course. Do you really expect me to say no, Arisu?” Hisoka kept the box away and pulled his fiancé back under the covers with him.

Being honest once in a while had its benefits.

**Author's Note:**

> In Asia, especially Singapore, there is a dish known as ‘carrot cake’ (a.k.a. chai tow kway) that does not use carrots in it. It uses white radish cubes. Somewhere down the line the translation became really loose and white radish ended up as carrots. 
> 
> Thanks Cami for helping me beta!
> 
> On one hand, this feels pretty cheesy, but on the other hand, there's Tsuzuru's premature greying. Does that make it a romcom?


End file.
